Struggling
by Nelioe
Summary: Fíli and Kíli have returned to the Ered Luin, but their wounds are still affecting their life, sometimes more, sometimes less. [Sequel to "Alive"]
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:** **Fíli and Kíli have returned to the Ered Luin, but their wounds are still affecting their life, sometimes more, sometimes less.**

_**This is the Sequel to "Alive", if you haven't read the story it's possible that this one will be a bit confusing, therefore I suggest to read the Prequel first. As it was with "Alive" this story too is a translation of a story I've originally written in my mother tongue. If you find spelling errors or grammatical mistakes it would be really helpful if you could tell me where exactly they are so that I can correct them.**_

* * *

By the time Kíli woke up on one morning, he knew that something wasn't right. Some weeks ago they'd arrived at Ered Luin and moved into their old home. Dust had covered the chambers, which had cost him and Fíli, – who had done his best to help Kíli with the cleaning, – a lot of time, until they were disposed of all the dirt. It was difficult to settle back in their old life, over the amount of time they had been gone. But somehow they succeeded. With their share of the treasure they didn't need to worry about work and their surviving, and so they performed only small tasks for now that they were able to achieve despite their injuries, just to find a new routine in their life.

But this morning something was different. Kíli had already felt it, before he opened his eyes. An uneasy pulling in his arm stump that he could feel to the point of his elbow. Kíli cursed. When would he finally stop thinking like that? He'd to quit seeing the pain like it belonged to his limb. He'd lost this arm, therefore he could feel nothing – nothing at all – in his non-existent elbow!

It was going to be an uncomfortable day, he realized suddenly. Almost the whole way back and, until now, the time in Ered Luin he'd lived without such sensations. So why would he feel now, of all times, this pulling? Indeed, Óin had told him before his departure, that even after the remission of the ache he'd to live through, it still could return spontaneously. However, he'd hoped to be spared from something like that. Sighing, he rubbed his eyes with his remaining hand and kneaded the base of his nose half-heartedly. Hopefully this unpleasant feeling would fade away during the day.

But, of course, this wasn't the case. The pulling remained and it felt so weird compared to the pain that had tormented him in Erebor and briefly even on the road, that he was unable of interpreting it. Like it was a bad omen and the more he concentrated on it, the more unpleasant it got. Fíli recognized it immediately, blindness aside, when Kíli rubbed over his stump time and time again at the breakfast table. His raised questions only got evasive answers form Kíli and afterwards he hurried to leave their quarter as soon as possible. He'd to run a few errands and hoped that movements and distraction would ease his suffering. Moments later he already shook his head fiercely. This wasn't suffering! He wasn't allowed to make such a fuss! It was only a tearing, a tearing that would soon abate.

But it didn't abate and once he reached the market the attention of the children followed him. Their parents avoided his appearance sheepishly with their eyes and tried not to stare, but it was hard to convey this in the heads of the little ones and so their glances dug blatantly in his back. At this place the glances were different, not disappointed, like they had been in Erebor, but only therefore no less annoying. According to this, he hurried up to work his list off as quickly as possible, although it was easier said than done with only one hand.

With a full basket he started his way back. The handle dug in an uncomfortable manner in his fingers and not for the first time he wished to have never lost an arm in the battle. But he was stubborn. Of course he could have put the basket down to get the feeling back in his fingers, but he was determined to prove that his life wasn't restricted. He could lead a fine life with only one arm, even if he'd to go without hunting and riding, there had to be other things he would be able to do just fine. Following this he endured the pain, when his fingers eventually started throbbing displeasingly and only put the basket down by the time he reached the front door of his home. Kíli hurried inside and strode to the pantry, where he started to fill the shelves bit by bit. He would need to visit the market again this week, after all there was only room for a specific amount of food in a basket.

Just as he lifted a small bag of flour, to put it away in one of the shelves, it slipped from his sluggish fingers. He tried to reach for it, could feel his shoulder moving, but the arm to grab the bag wasn't there anymore. With a dull sound the heavy sack met the cold stone floor and Kíli cursed angrily.

He had done it again. Again he had tried to use his left arm, although he knew that he had lost it months ago! When would his stupid head finally be able to grasp it?! Involuntarily he clenched his remaining fist. His muscles were constricting so much that they started to hurt.

"Kíli", Fílis voice cut through to him. Of course his brother had heard Kílis curse from his seat in the kitchen and stopped working immediately to join him, so he could make sure, that the younger one was alright.

Fíli moved so naturally in their home that he wasn't carrying his cane and Kíli couldn't even completely realize the loss of his arm!

Just as Fíli reached for him, after Kílis noisily and heavily breathes had revealed his position, the pulling in his stump changed into horrible agony. But the pain wasn't coming from the place of his scars. No, it felt like someone was digging a sharp knife into his elbow and moved it to ensure flesh and bones would be separated. Nothing could ease the pain, because his arm wasn't existing anymore. Fílis fingers brushed his shoulder and Kíli winced, his jaws were clenched, while the pain literally wrestled him down. Every fiber of his body seemed to be stretched to its breaking point, as if the lightest touch could unleash an inferno of agony in his insides. He stumbled some steps away from his brother, moaning in anguish. He'd started to sweat and tears were blurring his vision.

Oh Mahal, he wanted it to stop. Kíli had forgotten how much it could hurt. Unable to restrain the pain he clutched the stump of his arm frantically.

"Kíli", his brother said worriedly. But Kíli was barely able to hear him, too much agony covered his senses.

So he did the only thing that had always helped him so far: fight pain with pain. He raised his hand and punched the stone wall of the pantry. For one moment he could just feel the injury of his hand. Felt how the skin burst and how an agonizing throb shot through his fingers until they were shaking. He was barely able to suppress the groan that followed his action. But before he could hit the wall again Fílis arms entwined his upper body and yanked him coarsely backwards, obviously in the attempt to prevent him from doing it again. Kíli fought back instinctively, still fearing that every touch would chase torrid agony through his oversensitive nerves. They didn't fight long against each other. Both were panting grimly, their boots slipping over the stone floor while Kíli thought he would lose his mind through pain and captivity. Finally they lost their footing and fell to the ground, but still Kíli wasn't able to wriggle himself out of the hold of his brother.

"Stop it!", he heard the desperate cries of his brother, which slowly banished the deafness from his ears.

And Kíli had no choice but to do what Fíli demanded. In the meantime the sharp pain of his lost arm bombarded him mercilessly. His whole body convulsed, only an anguished groan escaped his throat.

"Try to take steady breathes", Fílis shaky voice whispered into his ear, so that he could feel the warm breathe of his brother at his cheek. "Breathe. In and out… in and out…"

With difficulty he found the strength to follow Fílis instructions, his lids were tightly shut and every breath of air interrupted by an agonized moan.

But what other option did he have? He wasn't able to free himself, something he would've done easily before the cursed battle. Now he couldn't do anything. He wasn't able to carry something and open a door at the same time. Cooking was equally problematic. He was barely able to button up his clothes. Without help he couldn't mount a pony. Every little moment of his daily routine was much too difficult. In Erebor these things were of no consequences, because everywhere had been servants, who had done such tasks for him. Kíli had drawn his attention to Fíli and had only taken care of his needs, whereby he now felt it for the first time. He regretted his return. His whole concentration had belonged to Fíli, so that Kíli never really thought about how he should live on with his injury. The result was devastating. Fíli found his way perfectly in their old environment whereas Kíli slowly despaired, while the urge to shout his frustration out grew inside him.

"Oh, Mahal, it was a mistake", he sobbed eventually, after the pain had finally vanished.

What had he been thinking? Then Erebor didn't feel like home, but at least his lost arm hadn't been a problem there, except for the stares of the other dwarves.

And his bow… Mahal, why hadn't he realized it sooner? It was over. Entirely. He was nothing without his weapon. With it he had earned respect from others and now? Every meaning he ever had for his folk was gone. He was a nothing. Here or in Erebor, it didn't matter. No one needed him. _Failure_, whispered a voice at the back of his mind.

"What? What was a mistake?", Fíli asked unsettled, while he intensified the hold around Kílis upper body and thereby hugged him tighter.

"We should never have come here", he sobbed.

His brother fell quiet when Kíli wasn't able to hold his tears back any longer and his desperation grew in the presence of Fílis silence. It seemed to be exactly the affirmation that he hoped his words wouldn't bring.

"We'll get through this together", Fíli breathed hoarsely. "Everything is going to be fine", he assured.

But Kíli didn't believe a word of it.


	2. Chapter 2

_**I hope the time leap won't disappoint you. When I started to write the Sequel I had certain situations in my head or rather certain milestones of their recovery that I wanted to explore. Furthermore I feared that if the focus of the next chapters would've been on Kíli that this chapter wouldn't have the same effect as I think it has now. And I didn't want this to happen, because what happens in this chapter is just as serious as in the one before.**_

* * *

Thirty years had passed by since Fíli and Kíli had returned to Ered Luin. Their old homeland looked almost abandoned after most of the dwarves had found their new home in Erebor. Sometimes Kíli felt like he could count the remaining residents on the fingers of one hand, which was grossly overstated, but now they knew everyone among each other. It seemed familiar and this familiarity felt great most of the times. People knew each other, no one condemned them, their will was appreciated and they were helped, when they needed it. The small population of their home aside, it still flourished, traded goods and withstood the hardest winters. They were tenacious and stubborn, a common characteristic of the dwarves, and stood their grounds.

Fíli worked in all areas that he could. He cooked, chopped wood, carved objects of all kinds like bowls of parts of some tools. Every now and then he weaved baskets or sewed. It had taken him a long time to learn all these things, but now his hands had seemed to become his new eyes. His ears were keen too. He knew the sound of the breeze and could tell when a storm was brewing and even Kíli wasn't able to approach his brother unnoticed. Fíli had made the best of his situation and a familiar environment like the Ered Luin benefitted him.

Kíli, on the other hand, had a hard time to find his feet in his old home. He'd been glad to be back, but it was difficult for him to find a steady work, which he could perform. While Fíli got at least his to hands fought Kíli a losing battle. His work at the forge wasn't an option, of course he was able to use the tools, but couldn't secure materials. At times set traps, but he only succeeded if he used his mouth and feet in a creative way. Hunting with bow and arrow, like he'd done before the battle, was wrenched from him. Instead he worked at the archives and did boring paperwork, which he tried not to complain about. In the summer months he trained the few children that had stayed with their parents in Ered Luin. The handling of his sword was by now easier, since he only paid attention to this weapon, but he too worked stubbornly on his skills. Never again would he allow his enemy to overpower him. He never again wanted to see Fíli fall, never again would he sit at his bedside, dizzy from his own loss of blood, and send prayers to Mahal to not take his brother from his side. For that reason he'd urged his body over years to exhaustion until his muscles screamed in pain when he just lifted a finger. Therefor he'd earned a considerable reputation. The people here respected him.

But despite everything the success had been long in coming and was linked to nights, where he, due to jealousy, hadn't been able to sleep. Because as much as Fíli had to fight to find his way in Erebor and at the streets, so easily it had come to him at the Ered Luin, where his blindness didn't seem to matter. Kíli didn't like to admit it, but sometimes he'd wished to be back at Erebor, because Fíli had needed him there. At least at this place he'd been of some use. Now he was ashamed of his own thoughts. He'd never been aware of how much he depended on his brother. He needed Fíli and hoped secretly, that he wouldn't start courting a lass someday. Kíli knew that he was selfish, but he'd no idea what to do with his life, if couldn't go home to his brother on every evening, in whose presence it was so easy to bear the dark winter days.

Today he left the settlement through one of the secret portals and marched with quick steps towards the near birch grove. Bofur had visited him not long ago and told him in a worried voice that Fíli – who'd carved toys in Bofurs the shop – had gotten up suddenly, taken his cane and fled. Their old companion wasn't able to tell him, what could've been responsible for this behavior, which alarmed Kíli only further. Fíli had good days and bad days, just like Kíli, but a reaction like this caught him off guard. If everything got on top of Fíli, he normally expressed his anger by screaming or breaking things. Fílis current behavior was so unusual that Kíli cringed involuntarily.

Thankfully one of the guards had noticed his brother leaving the protection of the mountain, so that Kíli already anticipated where he could find Fíli. As children they'd often played in the grove. Most of the times Fíli was the hero and Kíli the orc, golbin, warg or every other evil creature, that came to their mind. He hadn't liked to play the loser all of the time, but never carped at it, after all Fíli had spent time with him and the attention of his older brother was everything a young Kíli had wished for. On rare occasions they'd fought together against an invisible army. Fíli was Thorin and Kíli had played Fíli and he'd never been more proud, 'cause Fíli was his hero, as long as he could recall.

And indeed he spotted his brother at their old playground. There he sat on a trunk in front of the rivulet. Kíli still remembered how they'd dammed the water with stones or built mud-castles beside the water. Fílis back was turned to him, his head bowed and his shoulders trembled. Kíli froze in the middle of his steps, as soon as he was able to read his brothers pose. Fíli wept. His face was buried in his hands while his body shook from silent sobs. A tightness sat suddenly in Kílis throat that seemed to choke him. He could count the moments, in which Fílis had cried, on the fingers of his remaining hand. His brother was strong, he didn't cry! At least not in his presence. The last time was already over thirty years ago. It had been the day, they'd decided to leave the Erebor. The scene in front of him weighed heavily on his soul. To see his brother in such state hurt more than every physical wound possibly could. Kíli felt sick and his legs seemed to have taken roots. But he couldn't leave Fíli alone with whatever weighed upon him, regardless of whether the scene in front of his eyes pained him or not. Therefore he took a deep breath, gulped down the tightness in his throat and slowly approached his brother. Step by step by step.

For the first time in years Fíli didn't appear like he'd noticed how his brother came closer, which showed Kíli how profound the cause for his tears was.

"Fíli", whispered Kíli with a shaking voice, hoping is brother wouldn't be startled by his sudden appearance.

But Fíli flinched violently and turned his head slightly to the other dwarf. Kíli interpreted his inactivity as an invitation to take a seat beside him. His own heart hammered unutterable fast in his chest, while he wound his arm around his brother's shoulders. This brotherly gesture seemed to shatter the last bit of Fílis control and soon he clung to Kíli as if he was his only hope. Kíli patted his back awkwardly, while it got more difficult for him to fight the unpleasant pressure in his throat. He couldn't bear to see Fíli like this.

"Fíli, what's the matter? Please, tell me, what's going on?" He was close to tears as he begged his brother for an answer.

They'd been on the mend! They'd started to enjoy their life again! Why had they to endure something new that threw them back every time after they thought it was all finally over? Why weren't they allowed to live their life in peace?

It felt like an eternity until Fíli replied eventually… until he could handle his breath enough to phrase intelligible sentences.

"I can't remember", he choked.

Just to declare it let the anguish crush upon him and his heartbreaking sobs started again. Kíli strengthened his grip around his brother hoping to give him a better sort of comfort this way, but it only seemed to worsen Fílis tears.

"What can't you remember?"

The chirping of the birds, the rush of the water, even the gentle rustling of leaves sounded wrong. The idyll resonated like mockery in his ears in the presence of Fílis pain. The whole world seemed to be deaf to all the sorrow that took place on it.

"Your face", Fíli sobbed. "I can't remember your face. And mo-mothers a-and Thorins."

Every little bit of air left Kílis lungs as his limbs trembled in the cadence of Fílis body. He felt a twinge in his chest. Although he tried to not let it get to him, he couldn't change that the words of his brother hurt him deeply. Squeezing his lids tightly shut, Kíli took a deep breath, willing to suppress the emerging emotions. He'd no right to be angry! Fíli lived since three decades without his eyesight. What did he expect? That Fílis memories wouldn't suffer under the complete darkness? He was a fool, naïve… years passed, but this fact would always remain. Kíli didn't know if this should make him laugh or cry.

Meanwhile Fílis was able to control his sobs and tears. His voice shook still, when he started to speak:

"You are angry."

Kíli grimaced. Of course his brother would've noticed his pathetic fight for composure.

"I was", he corrected Fíli quietly. "I've no right to be mad at you."

"Yes, you have!", Fíli disagreed vehemently and backed away. The tense muscles in his face shaped it into a grim expression. "When I try to remember I can only see vague forms. Your faces are too smooth and partly blurred… I… I can't remember the color of your eyes", what had started to be a haunted, angry flood of words turned to sheer distress. All Kíli wanted was to reach out for his brother, but he knew that Fíli wouldn't want his solace at the moment, because the blond must feel like he didn't deserve such a treatment. "I don't know anymore how it looks when the sun rises over the mountains! Everything gets blurry! Everything disappears!"

And suddenly the sobs came back, nothing crueler than the truth elicited them. Fíli dug the hands in his blond hair and turned away from Kíli. This time he didn't consider it for a second and put his arm around the trembling shoulders of his brothers. In a half-hearted attempt Fíli tried to shake him off, but it only caused Kíli to tighten his grip. He bent his head wearily at Fílis shoulder and released an inaudible sigh. There were no words for him to offer that could whitewash the situation and Fílis loss. He wasn't even able to understand, what his brother was going through. If he felt helpless faced with these circumstances, how bad was it for Fíli?

"I'm here, you know", he began hesitantly, unsure if he'd made the right decision with the following words. "Even… even if you can't remember my face, even when you can't see me, I will still be with you. You won't lose me. That I promise."


	3. Chapter 3

Fíli inhaled deeply and a gust of different scents hit his nose. The tangy smell of moist soil and drenched stone. Grass. Fresh rain. He smelled the leather of his clothes and the soap he used to clean his body. Various plants created a special aroma. In the past Fíli would've experienced it as combined mass that tickled in his nose and made him sneeze just as often. Now he was able to distinguish them. There was wild garlic, nettle, cornflower and so much more, that he literally felt overwhelmed from all the variety.

His ears listened to the slight drops, which still could be heard here and there, while the thunder rumbled in the distance, in form of a thunderstorm that had just passed the mountains. A light breeze howled around the mountainsides and the grass and the leaves of a nearby grove rustled softly in an entangled rhythm. The birds came out of their hiding places and struck up a merry song and somewhere behind him, deep inside the mountain, he could hear a few scattered voices of dwarves that echoed through the huge halls until they reached him.

Under his hands lay the rough rock over which his fingers wandered absently, while he tried to take in all the different impressions. Only faintly he remembered the landscape or the faces of his family and friends. Even the last memories of his brother's appearance withdrew increasingly from him. Sometimes he thought, that he forgot Kílis look faster the more he tried to remember it.

But he'd stopped grieving and discovered other ways to remember his brother. Like the sound of his steps, the hum in his voice, the way he laughed or the soft hiss of his breath. His hand. Especially his hand. At first it had been strange, he'd felt awkward and the tension in Kíli had told him, that it didn't feel different for him as well. But the both of them had to come to terms with it. Kíli knew that Fíli saw now a lot with his hands and eventually it became a routine. And so Fíli would often reach for the hand of his brother when they were together and follow with his fingers the lines in Kílis skin. Palpate weals and unevennesses, feel the knuckles and stroke over short nails. Whereas Kílis face was only a blurred form with dark hair in his mind, Fíli could remember every detail of his hand.

This thought made him smile. It felt good. So much time had went by since he lost his sight and it had been a hard fight until he could gain a foothold in his new life, but he'd succeeded, to the point that he didn't lament his loss any longer. Fíli had found a new perspective, a perspective that was incomprehensible through eyes. His other senses offered him opportunities he'd never thought possible.

He was happy and could admit it without bad conscience.

* * *

Kíli describes circles with the blade in his hand, while he watched the lurking steps of his opponents with concentrated attention. He studied how the three of them exchanged a glance, their signal to begin the attack, although he'd told them often enough to use a more inconspicuous sign. So it was expectably easy for him to evade the first strike. Another sidestep to his left and he escaped their trap. Inwardly Kíli shook his head, these three dwarves in front of him needed to find a way to coordinate much better, if they hoped to stand a chance against him. He waited for some heartbeats, interested if the young warriors would adopt another course after their last tactic had obviously failed. But his hopes abated when they started to circle him once more.

The youngest amongst them, the son of a smith, lost his patience. With a scream he broke out of the line, he and his comrades had formed, and darted alone at his opponent. His companions were too surprised to come in time to his aid. Before they could react Kíli had already parried the blow, kicked the boy in the knee pits and brought him down. A tap to the shoulder with the tip of his sword symbolized the deathblow and suddenly Kíli had only two opposing dwarves left.

Hastily he ducked and evaded a blade that produced a hissing sound as it cut through the air. He avoided the blow of the other dwarf by leaping backwards. The flaws of the both of them were painfully obvious. As a trio they were able to shield one another, but the rash action of their fellow had destroyed their chances of winning. And therefore, for the first time in this fight, Kíli attacked. As always Reks grip around his weapon wasn't tight enough, whereby he just needed to wedge the sword skillfully so he could grasp and steal it from the youngster. The last, and at the same time oldest, one of the group held his ground longer. Sometimes he reminded Kíli of Fíli. The calm, the strength in his blows and the undeniable leadership abilities, nevertheless he just needed a few hard and experienced strokes to beat him, too.

After that he was faced with his heavily breathing students, whereas he hadn't even started to sweat. These three had the required potential, this was beyond doubt, but on this day Kíli was still dissatisfied with them. They'd acted precipitately and hadn't thought for one moment about changing their strategy, although they must've realized quickly that their intention wouldn't be successful. In a fight with an enemy, that intended to kill them, they would've lost their lives.

This was exactly what he told his mentees bluntly and soon he was able to notice, how they bend their heads in shame. After Kíli finished his lecture it was silent for a long while. Three young dwarves, the life ahead of them, who should know so much more about weapons and fighting than they did. With a sigh Kíli dismissed them for the day, hoping that a bit of thinking about their humiliation would help them to gain more discipline and ingenuity.

"Three at once, I'm impressed, little brother", Fíli used that moment to speak up. He'd probably arrived at the training ground before the fight even begun and had attentively followed the situation.

"When did you realize it?", he asked interestedly as his brother approached him, ere the blond leaned relaxed against his cane.

"Before you started your furious lecture, if this is, what you want to know", Fíli replied with a smirk.

Kíli stepped up to his brother and took a seat on a near bench, Fíli followed suit not many heartbeats later.

"I will never understand how you do this", he said grinning. Decades had passed, but he still couldn't get out of the habit to treat his brother like he always had and if he thought about it maybe this was the right thing to do.

Fíli simply pointed at his ears.

"I know how your steps and your blade sound, that's all I need. Besides, the three of them were breathing so heavily it surprised me they could hold their ground for this long", he laughed.

But the words only brought the seriousness back in Kílis mind.

"At their current state they're an easy prey. How will I ever be able to send them to the sentinels with a clear conscience, when they can't even defeat an one-armed man?", he hissed bitterly. Years of training and they still weren't ready. It was frustrating.

"You underestimate yourself, brother. Even the best warriors here have troubles to win against you. You've surpassed them all, so don't be too hard on them", Fíli tried conciliate like he'd done so often, when Kíli and Thorin were arguing.

After his words Kíli remained silent for some time. Thoughts he'd never wanted to express controlled his mind, but years had passed, maybe now was about time to pronounce them.

"I'm sometimes mad at him. Thorin, I mean. That he wasn't harder on me. That he never demanded more of me. Maybe then I would've been able to safe us all."

Fíli reached for his hand as he'd done so often in the last years, when they sat side by side and squeezed it comfortingly, before his fingers stroked absently over his knuckles.

"Stop regretting the past. Maybe you would've been able to safe us or maybe it all would've been a lot worse. It's no use to lose sight of the essential because of it."

Although Fíli tried to encourage him, Kíli couldn't help but think about another reality. If Thorin would've treated him differently… more like he'd treated Fíli… if he in general would've been more like Fíli, he was sure the battle would've taken another outcome.

Fíli sensed what was bothering him. It was almost scary what kind of a sixths sense he developed as soon as it came to Kílis mood.

"Maybe I would've fallen victim to the dragon sickness, if you hadn't been the little brother I've known all my life", Fíli declared this so mundane that it left Kíli speechless.

Incapable of phrasing meaningful words, he just stared at his brother, whose face stubbornly pointed straight ahead. Only the touch at his hand told him that in thoughts Fílis was fully with him.

"How can you believe such a thing?", Kíli eventually croaked horrified. "Gold never meant anything to you!"

"Yes", Fíli nodded gravely. "But only because of you."

Kíli examined the blond confused and waited that he would continue.

"Whenever I came home from my lessons, tired, frustrated and sometimes even desperate, because I couldn't live up to Thorins expectations, it was you, who tried to cheer me up. You were always there to drag me into some stupid pranks and although I told you they were beneath me, I had the most fun with you. I've learned very early that gold can't make me happy, just because you showed me that the family is much more important", Fíli paused while Kíli swallowed hard. "Maybe the battle would've ended differently. Maybe I would've ascended the throne of Erebor. And maybe I would've lost my mind through the wealth. I don't want to think about what could've happened under different circumstances. I'm here and I'm happy. That's enough for me."

Kíli felt uneasy. Fíli had laid his heart bare and he'd no idea how to deal with it. Therefore he did the only thing that came to his mind, the only thing that could end the awkward silence.

"Are you becoming sentimental in your old age?"

Instantly a fist poked him halfheartedly in the ribs, which made Kíli wince. Sheepishly he fell silent. The following quietness seemed different, no longer awkward and inappropriate, but reassuring and in a strange way even pleasant. Kíli closed his eyes slowly and inhaled deeply, while he tried to banish his pointless thoughts. He couldn't change the past, it wouldn't help to grieve over it. As usual Fíli was right.

"Are you still regretting it?", Fílis sudden question startled him.

"What?", he asked bewildered.

"The return to Ered Luin, are you still regretting it?"

"Why do you think that?", he pressed as bewildered as before.

Fíli shrugged.

"You've never brought it up again."

Fortunately Kíli didn't need to think about his answer, the last decades had told him everything he had to know.

"No, I don't regret it."

* * *

_**Thank you all for reading and commenting and enduring my far from perfect English. :)**_

_**Someday I want to go back to this AU and explore all those moments that haven't been mentioned until now, like Fíli and Kíli visiting Bilbo on their way back, Dís visiting her boys or how the first chapter of this story affected Kíli's recovery. As it is now this story was only meant to show certain parts of their recovery. I hope you liked it nonetheless.**_


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